


The Gingerbread Man

by AudreyXuan



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Christmas Angst, Coral Palms Florida, F/M, Florida takes a beating here SORRY FLORIDA, Fluff and Angst, I kept my timelines straight guys are you proud of me, Mentions of Figgis and accompanying canon-typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 04:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyXuan/pseuds/AudreyXuan
Summary: "Christmas, like everything else in Florida, was going to suck."Jake is stuck in Coral Palms for Christmas, and he wants nothing more than to buy a one-way ticket to New York and spend it with Amy. But he's a good police officer and an even better boyfriend, so he will have to make do with a gift.





	The Gingerbread Man

**Author's Note:**

> So in 405 "Halloween IV" when Amy is showing Rosa her virtual binder, I thought I noticed a little plush gingerbread man on her keychain. I couldn't help but wonder how it got there...

Christmas, like everything else in Florida, was going to suck.

Jake didn’t know what he expected--that all the trailer homes would magically transform into cute little brownstones and people would suddenly decide to trade their cargo shirts and muscle tops for tailored suits and tartan dresses? But there were only gaudy lights, plastic flamingos adorned with reindeer antlers, and a cardboard cutout of Santa-on-an-ATV that Todd had put in the shop window.

He missed all the stupid hokey tourist things in New York that he hated and Amy loved: carriage rides through Central Park, FAO Schwarz, the Rockefeller tree, and most of all the snow. Jake felt like a little kid for saying that, and most of the time the Brooklyn snow was more like slush. He complained about it every year, but now he wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with Amy and watch the snow fall.

Instead, Jake spent Christmas Eve driving aimlessly through Coral Palms. After hours of gas stations and trailer parks, he found himself at Fort Lauderdale Hollywood, physically itching to leave. FLL was perhaps the happiest place in Florida, not because it was a nice place--there were rats in customs and gators in the toilets, presumably--but because everyone there knew how close they were to leaving Florida. _One ticket_ , Jake thought. _One ticket and I'd be out of here._ His feet carried him into Terminal 2 - Domestic Flights. He walked to the counter like he was having an out-of-body experience and nothing was on his control, because nothing was. A 12:50 a.m. to LaGuardia, and in a few hours he'd be holding Amy in his arms within and telling her everything was going to be okay. _“I love you, Ames. To hell with Figgis. To hell with the NYPD. I need to be with you. Not through letters, not over the phone, not in a few years. Now.”_ And she’d break down sobbing, and she could barely get out a word, and he'd say _“Also, Florida is a hell-hole where even the Twinkies are swamp-flavoured, and a man can’t live with humid Twinkies.”_ Oh God, and now she’s laugh-crying, and she’s happy and smiling and in some ways it's even worse because he knows how likely it is that Figgis could kick down the door any minute and shoot her in the head.

“Sir? Are you alright? Do you want some help? Sir?” He was standing in front of the heavily-lipsticked ticket lady, comatose, unlistening, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I'm sorry, what? No, I...”

“Do you still want the ticket? One economy ticket to LaGuardia?”

“No, sorry...I...sorry, I have to go. Sorry.”

On his brisk walk from the counter to the sliding doors--this was torture being here, being so close--Jake stopped at the dimly-lit gift shop. Head pillow, corn nuts, earbuds. Jake picked up a pack of Twinkies and a bottle of blue--he was in Florida now (and likely forever), so he might as well lean into it.

“Just these, please.”

On the counter was a faded Christmas display filled with sad little plushie keychains. Anywhere else, they would’ve been cute. But these little guys had been in this godforsaken airport for too long. Every day they watched people come and go--but mostly go--while they were condemned to this sad little shelf on the sad little counter of a sad little gift shop in the saddest city on earth.

“Actually, I’ll take this as well.”

 

* * *

  

“Good morning, Sarge.”

“Morning, Amy. Hey, were you expecting a package today?”

“No, why?”

“This was addressed to you,” Sarge said, handing Amy a tiny cardboard box. “No return address, no mailing address. Just showed up on the doorstep this morning. I was almost about to put the precinct in lockdown, but look at this.” On the bottom corner of the package, so small she could barely see it, was a symbol drawn in black Sharpie.

“Nakatomi Plaza,” she said. “It’s Jake.”

Amy grabbed the package out of Sarge’s hands and brought it over to her desk. Slicing the tape with her letter opener, she found a note carefully placed on top:

_Dear Ames - I love you and I miss you. I miss New York and I miss Christmas. I miss us buying a tree and decorating the house. I miss baking gingerbread cookies and eating them while insisting Die Hard is the best Christmas movie ever made. This is a pretty small post-it note, so I don’t have much room left, but I just needed you to know._

_I love you and I miss you._

_\-- JP_

Underneath, wrapped in tissue paper, was a plush keychain, a little gingerbread man.

“I love you and I miss you.”

 

* * *

 

_One year before_

 

“Jake, how much cookie dough did you eat? This is only our fifth batch and we’re running out. Five batches, triple yield, six cookies per person, plus extra for Captain Holt...we’re 36 cookies below schedule, Jake. 36 cookies!”

“Oh, no, what? This is a disaster!”

“Thank you! This _is_ a disaster!”

“You just got betrayed, son!”

Amy glanced at the phone in his hand.

“Lemme guess, Die Hard? Again? Stupid of me to think you were actually listening.” Overwhelmed, Amy crumpled to the kitchen floor.

“Whoah, Ames,” Jake said. He sat down beside her and tucked his phone back in his pocket. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how upset you were.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Amy said, wiping tears from her face. “It’s just some stupid cookies. I overreacted. You can go back to watching your movie now.”

“No way, babe. I’m staying here with you.”

“Thanks. It’s not just cookies, you know. It’s just--with the hostage situation and everything, I was really worried about you. I thought you were dead. I just wanted one perfect, normal Christmas. Tree, lights, gingerbread men...”

“Hey, come here.” Jake pulled Amy into his arms. “It’s okay. Being a cop, dating a cop. We know it’d be stressful from the beginning. And yeah, sometimes I hate it. But you know what? I love you. And we’re gonna get through everything, good and bad, yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you.”

“I love you too. And hey,” Jake said, reaching up onto the counter and handing her a cookie. “No matter what happens, we still have gingerbread, right?”


End file.
